They Run In Families
by Oncie's Sweetheart
Summary: Brett and Chett are identical twins. They say twins run in famililes. What if The Once-ler had a twin too? The girl his mother always wanted? And what happened to her?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a little different than what I usually write, but this idea's been in the works for a while, and I'm finally bringing it out.**

**:D**

**~OS**

**Summary: Brett and Chett are identical twins. They say twins run in famililes. What if The Once-ler had a twin too? The girl his mother always wanted? And what happened to her?**

* * *

It was a warm spring day. The air was humid, but not too soggy. And in a small town near the edge of the land, two babies were born.

Well, I'm sure a million babies were born on that day, but these two are the focus of this story.

It all started in Elbereth Hospital, where a man with black hair and light blue eyes and two fair-haired identical boys waited anxiously for some good news.

Eventually, they got some. They learned that their wife and mother (respectively) was fine, and that their new baby brother or sister was safe also. So the two boys were sent home to stay with their aunt and uncle.

The baby was brought out, swaddled in a soft blue blanket, and placed in his father's arms.

His beautiful blue eyes stared right at his father's, his tiny mop of black hair sitting atop his head. The man held the baby closer, but gently.

The nurse came out again. The man, too absorbed in his new son, was oblivious to her presence until she gave a little cough. He looked up. She was holding another bundle, wrapped in a pink blanket this time. At first the man looked confused, and then an understanding expression dawned on his face.

"Twins?" He spoke for the first time in hours.

The nurse merely nodded, and he was left with two bundles, identical in every way but for the blanket they had around them.

He gazed fondly at them as they dozed off, tired after their entry into the world.

They were perfect.

* * *

The twins were placed in the hospital for a few hours while the mans completed the necessary birth certificates. He and his wife had decided long before that if they ever had a girl, her name would be Cleo. So there was one down. The man liked the sound of rhyming names. His first two boys were named Brett and Chet. So what rhymed with Cleo?

He ran through the list of possibilities before narrowing it down to two: Leo, and Theo.

Leo sounded _too _close to Cleo. So Theo it was.

He started writing out the forms.

I would like to state here that this man is _very_ absent-minded, and easily distracted. So it isn't a wonder that he started thinking about groceries in the middle of signing. He was also a doctor. Most doctors' handwriting are extremely messy. Keep this in mind.

Cleo was the lucky one. _Her _birth certificate was flawless. Poor Theo got the brunt end of it.

While writing out his birth certificate, Theo Nathaniel was supposed to be on the paper. Now, the "Theo" part of it was written so that the "o" appeared disconnected from the rest of the word.

Like this:

The o

As for "Nathaniel", the "N" was as far as the man got. Then he started thinking about celery.

You know how when you don't want to forget something, you write it down?

Well that's exactly what happened.

The word celery was written onto little Theo's birth certificate. But the messy handwriting came into play again. The word celery was written so that the "y" was _not _able to be seen. Furthermore, the "e" was written so badly that the end of the "e" looked like a dash. In the end, the certificate looked like this:

The o n ce-ler

Now, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it honestly.

When you look at the writing above, do you _really _see "Theo n celery"?

Because _I _sure don't.

So let's not blame the doctors for thinking his name was The Once-ler and finalizing it.

And let's not blame the government for making that the official name that would be registered in every school he would go to.

And finally, let's not blame his dad. Because that kind of thing could happen to anyone. It just so worked out to happen to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is a little different than what I usually write, but this idea's been in the works for a while, and I'm finally bringing it out.**

**Oh my god. _Seven reviews on the first chapter!_**

**You guys are amazing!**

**DemonSurfer: Thanks for pointing out that they'd have to be fraternal twins. :) I didn't know that. However, I never came out and said they were identical twins. I only said they were identical in every way, meaning they looked alike. I'm just saying. Either way, thanks for letting me know so I don't make a mistake in the future.**

**The average height for a four year old (of either gender) is 37 inches.**

**And remember, sharing is caring!**

**:D**

**~OS**

**Summary: Brett and Chett are identical twins. They say twins run in famililes. What if The Once-ler had a twin too? The girl his mother always wanted? And what happened to her?**

* * *

The years went on, and eventually Isabella Saren gave up on trying to change her son's name. He was born under "The Once-ler", grew up under "The Once-ler", and would probably die under "The Once-ler". It didn't help that her husband thought it was a perfectly fine name, perhaps even better than Theo.

Cleo and The Once-ler were almost always found together. Because the family had only been exxpecting one child, they shared a room from birth. They both had straight black hair (Though Cleo grew hers out), sapphire blue eyes, and skinny frames. At age four they both reached a height of about 44 inches. They were both eager to learn, and looked forward to starting school the next year. The Once-ler looked out for his younger-by-two-minutes sibling, and likewise, she took care of him.

Now, all people have their differences. Where Cleo was a definite math and science person, Theo had an extremely inventive and artistic mind. Sometimes they would work together, The Once-ler planning extravagant creations and Cleo "building" them out of wooden blocks. Needless to say, they were often destroyed by Brett and Chet playing sports inside the house.

Being the only girl in the family, there was a great chance Cleo might have been extremely spoiled if it wasn't for her brother.

Whatever Cleo asked for, Cleo got. At least at first. Then she started noticing how her brother was so often left out of these wonderful prizes she recieved.

The first time she asked about it, she was met with a shower of compliments about how "Mama's little Cleo is SO thoughtful!", after which she was just patted on the head and sent upstairs with a "Oncie doesn't want that stuff, honey,"

But she knew he did. And so Cleo learned the first of many valuable lessons in life- sharing.

On their fifth birthday, The Once-ler and Cleo recieved the first push towards what would be a great musical talent- Their parents had got them a small music set, complete with mini keyboard, guitar, and drums.

As we all know, The Once-ler quickly gravitated towards the guitar, while Cleo was left with a choice: Piano? Or drums?

She normally took turns on both, and the two of them would commonly be a Saturday-morning wake up call for the rest of the family. But they never could be blamed.

After all, who got them the instruments in the first place?

* * *

The summer passed quickly, with endless days spent at the town pool and eating icecream along the beach with their parents. Brett and Chet would commonly leave them for their 'grown-up' friends, kids in their classes at school.

So they spent a lot of time together. But no one minded, least of all them. You could never have one without the other; The Once-ler without Cleo, and vice versa.

Their first day in kindergarten, they were placed in the same class, much to everyone's expectations. It was the first experience like this either of them had ever had before. Twenty-nine 'practically babies' according to Brett and Chet herded together in one room with only one adult present is not exactly the nicest experience at first.

Their teacher, Miss Loreli Mazenhower was pretty, and young, with shoulder-length wavy brown hair and bright hazel eyes. Each child was called up to the front of the room to recieve a name badge and an assigned number. Due to the mix-up at birth, Cleo Saren and The Once-ler weren't next to each other (Much to their disappointment). Cleo was placed at a table with two other girls and a boy, and Theo was put next to three boys at the table in the farthest corner.

"Good morning class, my name is Miss Mazenhower, but you can call me Miss L..."

* * *

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, and soon it was time for the all-day kindergarten class to go home.

Cleo was talking and laughing with a red-headed, brown-eyed girl by the door when The Once-ler walked up to her.

"Come on Cleo." he mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Who's that?" asked the redhead.

"That's my brother, The Once-ler," said Cleo in her bubbly voice.

"Oh. Well it's nice to meet you." the girl said with a small wave.

"Once, this is my new friend Annie. But you can call her Christine."

"Huh?" he said, looking up. "Why can I call her Christine?"

"I don't like my real name, Annie. And my mommy said that when I go to school, everybody can call me _whatever_ I want them to! So I'm telling everyone to call me Christine. But at home, my mommy says I have to be Annie." Annie finished with a frown.

The Once-ler felt overwhelmed by the wave of words.

"That's good." he muttered, and grabbed Cleo's hand.

"Cleo, we have to go now."

"Okay. Bye Christine!" said Cleo, with one final wave.

"Bye Cleo! See you tomorrow!"

"Bye!"

"Bye!"

* * *

The walk back home with their mother was full of chatter from Cleo about Annie. (Or should I say Christine?)

It was Annie this, and Christine that, and The Once-ler just felt left out. He also had never seen someone who talked so much, so fast before.

Hopefully, when he got home, his daddy would ask _him _how his day was.

* * *

**A/N: I was going to make this longer, but then it would just be a rambling run-on.**

**:D**

**And I wanted to publish this _today_, so yeah, here it is. :)**

**Nothing much else,**

**~OS**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is a little different than what I usually write, but this idea's been in the works for a while, and I'm finally bringing it out.**

**Oh my god. _Five more reviews on the second chapter!_**

**You guys are amazing!**

**:D**

**This chapter is dedicated to all people who can actually draw. (Unlike me)**

**~OS**

**Summary: Brett and Chett are identical twins. They say twins run in famililes. What if The Once-ler had a twin too? The girl his mother always wanted? And what happened to her?**

* * *

When they finally reached home, (Cleo and his mom reaching the building long before him), the first thing Theo did was run inside the house.

"Daddy! Daddy! Guess wha-"

He screeched to halt. Blocking the way to the study was his brother, Brett.

"Oncie- Once, you can't go in there." he stated, firmly, but with a strange quiver in his voice.

"Why not?" asked The Once-ler, his tiny voice holding a small bit of determination, trying to make this the first time he stood up to his brother alone.

"You just can't." stated the oldest child, with the slightest of quavers in his voice, one that went undetected by The Once-ler.

Theo thought about it for a second, as if giving up, then suddenly tried to dart around Brett, reaching for the door handle.

Too quick for him, Brett grabbed him by the back of his shirt and swung him around again.

"Oncie, listen. _Go upstairs_."

The Once-ler decided to try one last resort.

"But I want to tell Daddy something!"

Brett was silent for a while, _Almost as if he was listening for something that wasn't there_, thought Theo.

Then he shook his head.

"No, I can't let you go in. You can tell Dad whatever you wanted to say later. Go upstairs and do whatever it is that you five-year olds do." he said, with a layer of emotion, one that Theo took for granted to be anger.

But if you looked closely, you'd notice that the expression in Brett's eyes was more like fear.

* * *

Cleo chattered on, oblivious to her brother's gloomy mood.

"So you know what Christine made me? A pink flower. It's soooo pretty, mommy! She's a _really_ good colorer! She never goes outside the lines! I think Oncie would like her. But he only said two words! How come mommy?"

Without giving her mother a chance to reply, Cleo skipped ahead and continued

"So, the flower was light pink. But blue is _my _favorite color. And purple. I like purple a lot. What's your color mommy? Hey! What's Brett and Chet's? And Oncie's. And daddy's! We can't forget daddy!"

She paused for a moment, to hear her mother's reply and to simultaneously blow the strands of her long hair out of her face.

Isabella just pursed her lips.

Cleo looked around, noticing for the first time that her twin wasn't next to them.

"Mommy, where's Oncie?"

Isabella sighed.

"Probably somewhere far behind. He'll come when he comes, Cleo."

Cleo was silent the rest of the way home.

* * *

When they reached the house, Cleo walked inside with her mother to the study.

"I can't wait to tell daddy all about Christine!"

That's the way it was with Cleo. Not "I can't wait to tell daddy all about my day," or "I can't wait to tell daddy about my class," or even "I can't wait to tell daddy about my teacher." Nope. With her, it was all about Christine.

Her mother ignored her (for once!) and stalked into the study.

Cleo tried to follow her, and slipped inside the room as her mother's back was turned, right before she slammed the door.

She glanced up for a quick second, then shrunk back as she noticed the expression on her mother's face. Deciding she'd talk to her dad later, she reached behind her for the door, only to find she couldn't reach it. Then she remembered. Her parents had hired a crew of workers over the summer to raise the height of some of the important rooms' doorknobs. They had done this so that the twins couldn't disturb the elders when they were working.

Now, Cleo felt a wave of alarm rise up in her. She had a feeling she wasn't supposed to be in the room at the moment. Looking around, she saw a pile of cushions in the corner from when Brett and Chet had last played football indoors. She thanked the gods that they had been too lazy to put it away. Scrabbling to get behind the pile, she dove in between the soft plush fabrics.

She tried not to hear, she really did. But she was too close to the speakers to be able to block out any of the words.

She heard every single word.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I'll put the scene of what the parents were talking about next chapter. **

**Enjoy, my readers!**

**~OS**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is a little different than what I usually write, but this idea's been in the works for a while, and I'm finally bringing it out.**

**This can't be real. _I now have 21 reviews on a three-chapter story._**

**You guys are amazing!**

**:D**

**Okay, I took a while to decide what the fight would be about. (I'm saying it here, because most of you guessed anyways. :) ) I'm still not _entirely_ happy with it, so if you guys have some suggestions, I can rework the chapter. :)**

**~OS**

**Summary: Brett and Chett are identical twins. They say twins run in famililes. What if The Once-ler had a twin too? The girl his mother always wanted? And what happened to her?**

* * *

Cleo hugged herself underneath the pile of pillows as her mother's heels click-clacked over to where her father was typing away on the old rickety laptop the Sarens owned. It was black, and chunky, and very very outdated. But that's not the point.

Her blue eyes peeked through a small gap in the cushions to see the bottom of her mother's dress and the black office chair with legs sticking out of it. Her father hadn't noticed Isabella yet.

"Ahem."

Well, it was only a matter of time.

The chair swiveled around, and Cleo now saw the khaki-clad legs of her father. She heard a creaking, and assumed this to be her father leaning forward in his chair.

"We need to talk."

This was the voice of her mom, dripping with disdain and a southern accent. She took a step towards the man.

"What about?" said her father, his tone calm, collected, and casual.

"About this- this _program_ you've been looking at."

"What program?"

"Don't you try to hide things from me! It's ridiculous, wasteful spending, that's what it is! Don't try to pretend, you know _exactly_ what I'm talking about!" seethed Isabella.

"Say I didn't. Explain to me Isabella, how merely considering all the options for a good education for our children is _wasteful spending_."

His voice was still very soft, and he said this with no trace of detectable anger.

"He doesn't need a fancy _art _school! He can barely even tell his rights from his lefts! Now, if you were searching for a fancy, thousand-dollar school like this for Brett or Chet, then I would understand. _They_ have talent. But Oncie! Why, sometimes I feel he doesn't even know his own name! And you want to send him to a school for the _gifted_?"

She was so carried up in her tirade that she didn't notice the shadows on her husband's face darken, and his eyes ignite in anger. Yet, his voice was still contained when he spoke.

"First off, Brett and Chet are our sports stars, there's no doubt about that. I'm sure they'll do well in the athletics department. But our son The Once-ler has a lot of promise, much more than that of Brett and Chett. He's only five, and yet he already has all these designs for inventions he's going to build! And I have complete confidence that he can build every single one of them."

He said the last part before his wife could interject.

"Second off, it's not an _art school_. It's the School For the Gifted and Talented Arts. _Which _include art, yes, but also music, dance, _invention_, acting, culinary skills and more. It's not just _any_ fancy school. It's something I think will actually help Oncie on his way to fame."

Isabella cut in. "Fame?"

She snorted.

"The day that no-good lazy baby of a boy becomes famous will be the same day I become the richest woman in the world."

She paused, an almost evil grin on her face.

"And what about your only daughter? Cleo? Doesn't she deserve this so-called amazing school?"

The man sighed, really getting angry now.

"I'm sure by now you've realized that Cleo is a very smart girl, but maybe perhaps not the most imaginative! Besides, she already gets spoiled silly by her mother!"

His voice started to rise.

"And the only reason that she hasn't become a brat already is because she actually _noticed_ her brother, which is ten times more than _you _ever did!"

Inside her little cocoon of pillows, Cleo let out a little gasp, then shrunk back to the farthest end of the pile, tears starting to form in her little eyes.

Her father looked at the pile for a moment then, but then carried on.

"And I'm sure that when she grows up she'll be ten thousand times the woman you are,"

Isabella's face had turned white by now.

"But that's not the point now, is it? No, it's about _you_, Isabella, _you_, who, if, you hadn't given birth to him, I would have sworn you hated your third child."

Her mouth was open, but with no answer.

"Actually, you know what, forget that. You _do _hate your second-youngest, and everyone can see that; I was just too blind to believe it. You can go ahead and forget this whole school thing. I'll teach Oncie myself if I have to. You're just an overgrown, spoiled, horrible brat, and you know what? Eventually you're going to make your daughter into one too!"

He stalked out and slammed the study door, leaving Isabella (and Cleo) in the room alone.

Isabella was shaken. Her husband, in the entire time they were married, had _never_ yelled at her like that. She was annoyed, and worried, and angry, and slightly defeated, and yet a winner all at the same time. She slowly made herself over to the double doors, cautiously turning the handle, as if the very touch of her hand would lead it to bite her. After letting herself out, she quickly rushed upstairs, leaving the door halfway open with a very confused and hurt Cleo inside.

* * *

_My daddy loves me. _

_But he just yelled at you..._

_But he still loves me. He didn't mean it._

_Yes, he did, and you know it. Every single word he said was true._

_N-no..._

_Yes. You are a _horrible_ person, Cleo Saren._

_Go away._

_No. I can't. I'm your conscience._

_My what?_

_Con. Sci. Ence._

_Huh?_

_I take care of you and I tell you what's right and what's wrong._

_Well, you're not doing a very good job._

_What! Of course I am!_

_No. If you were, you wouldn't have let me go in there._

_That's not how it works._


End file.
